


Thank You

by Jay_Wells



Category: 18th Century CE RPF
Genre: Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Child Abandonment, Child Death, Gen, Grieving parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6546559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Wells/pseuds/Jay_Wells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander visits Philips grave site six months after the duel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You

     “Philip, do you remember when you were ten, and you asked me why you never saw your other grandparents, and I told you it was because they were too far away?” Alexander asked. Without waiting for a response, he continued, “That was a bit of a lie. I know I said I would never lie to you, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it and I didn’t think you were ready either, but I think we need to have this talk.”

     It had begun sprinkling lightly, and the dirt underneath him was springy and stuck to his clothes. He pinched his fingers around a small sprout and yanked it somewhat violently from the ground. He rolled it back and forth between his forefinger and thumb. “When I was twelve, your Grandma Rachel and I got very sick, and she made sure that all the best medicine went to me. She died, and I couldn’t even cry, because I was so sick it didn’t really register. I was well enough by the funeral to attend, and I decided that day that losing one’s parents was the worst thing that could happen.”  
  
     “It felt like the ground was pulled out from under me, and I wondered for a very long time why my mother didn’t let me die, because it would have been easier than living without her. Meeting your mother made it easier, but it still escaped me how she could have foreseen that I would have ended up where I did. I honestly believed that was the worst thing that happened to me.” The spout was a green mush in his hand. He rubbed it off on his handkerchief. “It took you for me to realise that she might’ve had selfish reasons, too. You were small and fragile, but I somehow knew you were destined for greatness. I knew you would outdo me in every way, and I wanted you to. I had to make that possible, and protect you from everything.”

     “I know I could be overbearing at times, but I wanted to do the best I could for you, and sometimes that meant you couldn’t have it your way.” Alexander leaned against the headstone and closed his eyes. It was cool and damp, and he could feel the vague outline of the letters through his coat. He didn’t need to. He knew what it said.

_Philip Hamilton, 22 January 1782 -- 24 November 1801, Beloved Son and Brother_

     “When you died,” his voice broke on died, “that was the worst day of my life. I want you back. I would take your place, even if it meant you were fatherless, because losing you meant losing what mattered most to me.” He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “I’m selfish for wanting you back from heaven, just to have you be fatherless, but you weren’t done here yet. You had so much ahead of you.”

     Alexander rose up from the grave and turned to face it. “But that’s not possible. So thank you for being my son.”


End file.
